


Banal'halam

by MamaMystique



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Tagging In Advanced, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I regret to inform you that the Dalish clan was entirely destroyed."</p>
<p>In the aftermath of the destruction of her clan, Inquisitor Sakhim Lavellan nearly crumbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banal'halam

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This will be an ongoing fic that I will attempt to update as often as I can.
> 
> Yael, Nimueh, and Daine Lavellan all belong to my roommates and are their own OFCs. They are gracious enough to let me borrow them for the purpose of this story.
> 
> For context, this is my first time ever writing an in-depth multi-chapter fic for this series, as well as my first full play through of all three games. I may get a few details wrong, but I will attempt to thoroughly research as much as I can.
> 
> The Elven phrases and dialogue I use are referenced from the amazing Project Elvhen {http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061}

_I regret to inform you that the Dalish clan was entirely destroyed._

            The words didn’t seem real. Something so short, so perfunctory. Cullen’s heart seized in his chest as horror gripped at him, cold and empty, bursting up into his ribs and threatening to break from within. Maker. He had killed them. He had thought – with quick enough reaction, _direct_ action – he had promised he could save them. He had promised Sakhim he would protect her people, that he could do it. The risk was not worth it he had pleaded. Let him stop this, not risk the lives of the Dalish sneaking in to do what his men could end once and for all.

            _I regret to inform you that the Dalish clan was entirely destroyed._

            Like a sear the letter felt burned into his mind.

            “Cullen?”

            Cullen startled from his thoughts, their seeming void distracting him from the entry of the Inquisition spymaster. Leliana stood cautiously at the threshold of his door, like a shadow ready to slink away at any moment. Her face was drawn with pleasant inquiry, but not a smile. Never a smile. He stumbled. “Leliana. I apologize, I didn’t hear the door.”

            “Perhaps some squeakier hinges would do. I can ask Sera for a favor. She does so love to help us.”

            _I regret to inform you that the Dalish clan was entirely destroyed._

            Cullen could feel Leliana staring at him, waiting for him to respond. But he couldn’t. If he opened his mouth the words might fall out and then she would know. They all would know. He closed his eyes, swallowing the thought, and focused on something else. “Has the lady Inquisitor returned from the Emerald Graves yet?”

            Leliana’s eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing sadly. Dammit she knew, she always _knew_. “Cullen, what’s happened? Are you alright?”

            _Focus_ , he scolded himself. New words could not be summoned, so he chose the ones he had already said. “Has our lady Inquisitor returned?”

            Like a fretful bird the spymaster took a step into the room, always cautious. Cullen could tell she did not know what to do. “That is what I had hoped to speak to you about. Sakhim sent word that she will be returning today. She’s finished scouting, and it seems we will be welcoming some new friends to our midst. Indirectly, of course. But we need her to focus. The time to act upon the threat to Empress Celene’s life is narrowing, and we must attend the ball at the palace if we are to have any chance of doing so. I had hoped we could prepare a plan.” Leliana now stood across the desk. Her dim eyes peered at him from beneath the hood she wore, the stretch of darkness it cast upon her face always drowning her features in a mask of sorrow. But now it was no mask – it was genuine. “The raven came with heavy wings,” she continued, softer than before, “I recognized the knot. Lieutenant Chambreterre is the only one who favors such a secure method.”

            _I regret to inform you that the Dalish clan was entirely destroyed._

            Cullen bowed his head forward, his palms coming to rest on his desk. He felt his shoulders curl protectively. “Please…send the lady Inquisitor to me once she arrives. I would-” _not delay the message_ , he meant to say, but his lips had long since stopped moving.

            “I will,” came Leliana’s voice, seemingly from the ether. He could barely tell what was real.

            When he next looked up Leliana was gone. The door was closed, and he was alone. Left with his thoughts, Cullen attempted to steel himself. He was Sakhim’s advisor, her General. Her…friend. Perhaps not after this. But nevertheless, he could prepare himself. She deserved a proper explanation and apology. “Inquisitor,” he tested, his voice rough. “I regret…I regret to inform you…” Even as the words slipped into the cool air they felt wrong.

            The sun had begun to set by the time Sakhim returned, Sera, Dorian, and Cassandra in tow. Sera and Dorian’s boisterous bickering could be heard all the way up the walk, echoing inside the walls with playful mirth. Cullen did not have to listen to know the Seeker was with them: wherever the Inquisitor went, Cassandra was at her side. Shame prickled at Cullen’s face. Once he could have stared down abominations. But the thought of meeting Sakhim now, of facing her surrounded by everyone to see, filled him with fear. She did not deserve that, to be told in front of her friends, her lover, her followers. No, he reasoned. He would wait. Leliana would keep her promises like she always did, no matter how reluctantly. Cullen turned his back from the doors, resting his arm on the cold stone and letting his forehead touch the wall. The chill did not soothe him, but it grounded him in the moment. He could not falter – he wouldn’t. Not after what Sakhim had done for him, standing by him even in his moment of weakness. She hadn’t let him go back to the lyrium. With all the ferocity a reaver such as herself possessed, she had told him that she would help him, that they all would.

            _“I will never let you stand alone,”_ she had promised, and she had never gone back on her word. There was something else there, some protective ferocity that Cullen knew came not from training, but from life. He had never felt it in his place to ask where she had come by it.

            A strong knock came at his door in three raps. “Cullen?” The Inquisitor’s voice was muffled by the wood, but he could still hear the smile in her voice. “Don’t throw anything at the door, I’m coming in.”

            Cullen bit his tongue to stop from responding with the words he had practiced all afternoon. They were the only words he had now.

            The soft creaking of the door announced Sakhim’s entrance, her steps heavy. “Cullen?” She repeated, concern at once in her tone. The Inquisitor’s emotions were never hidden. It seemed some days that she felt everything at once. When paired with Cassandra, it could prove to be an interesting mix: but even the hard Seeker seemed to melt around her, as if Sakhim’s openness could reflect back every joy in her heart. And now he was going to break it. Perhaps irrevocably. “Cullen, why won’t you look at me?”

            Clenching his fists, he turned. Slowly. If he moved too fast he feared he might collapse. Sakhim’s electric green eyes met his at an even level, dirt and sweat still stuck to the old scars of her face. She wasn’t ready. “I have news from my Lieutenant.”

            Sakhim’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “Your Lieutenant?”

            “Chambreterre,” Cullen explained, hoping somehow that might be enough, that he didn’t have to make the report real.

            _I regret to inform you that the Dalish clan was entirely destroyed._

            Sakhim stepped closer, a breath caught in her chest. “You look upset. I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Leliana said you barely-”

            But he wouldn’t let her finish. “Chambreterre. I sent Chambreterre to Wycome, to make a move on the nobles threatening your clan.”

            Silence filled the room. Cullen swore he could hear his own heart beating. He knew he could hear Sakhim’s. And for a while nothing happened. Neither of them attempted to break the spell, both instead trying to carefully measure the other. Then:

            “You-,” Sakhim broke, her voice beginning to waver, “you’re scaring me.”

            There had never been a sound so heartbreaking as the Inquisitor’s fear and sorrow. At once every phrase left him, and nothing would be good enough. Nothing but the truth, but what he felt. “Sakhim, I…I regret to…” Cullen could hear the edge in his own response, could feel the pain blossoming in his chest. “Clan Lavellan has been…they’re dead.”

            For a moment there was no visible reaction on the Inquisitor’s face. Cullen could feel her eyes boring into his, looking for any other truth and finding none. The result was even worse than he could have predicted.

            Sakhim swayed dangerously, her knees buckling until she fell to the floor, barely catching herself on her hands. Her back heaved with an ugly intake of breath, and at once a terrible sob escaped like some demonic cry. “No,” she choked, “no Cullen. My – my sisters.” Cullen sunk down beside her, fully expecting wrath, any wrath, to come. But it didn’t. He did not respond, and that was enough. The Inquisitor crumbled. Full body sobs took hold and soon it was not enough for her hands to support her. Her head touched the floor and she cried, weeping into the carpet. Cullen reached out to her, his hand hovering above her back, unsure. “I’m sorry Sakhim, I thought....I could protect them.”

            The movement was so sudden he could barely breathe before he knew what had happened. Sakhim was clinging to him like a child, hands knotting in the sleeves of his feathered collar, her face pressed to the armor above his chest. She did not scream, or curse. Instead she enveloped him in her strong grasp and wept. With trembling hands Cullen wrapped her tight in his arms, letting his head rest against her hair. “I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.” Sakhim curled her fingers tighter. Her breath was hot and ragged, and it was all he could do to try and contain her within the circle of his hold. His own tears began to fall, listening to Sakhim whisper in pleading Dalish phrases he never wanted to understand.

            “Mi’nas’sal’inan,” her cry was barely audible, “Mi’nas’sal’inan.”


End file.
